


they will eat you alive

by orphan_account



Series: in absentia luci, tenebrae vincunt [5]
Category: Political RPF - US 21st c., Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/F, F/M, M/M, Other, Political Intrigue, Power Dynamics, Stolen Moments, Unhealthy Relationships, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 12:32:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10719414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: And that's something, isn't it? The fact that they never deny themselves anything. The fact that they give themselves everything they want and never tell themselves no.





	1. Chapter 1

“Okay,” Maggie says, taking a step back from the desk. She starts pacing around his room, from one wall to the next. Her hair is tied back loosely and her fingers fidget around, aching for something to hold. A specific something, actually – something nice and cyclical and flammable and filled with nicotine and –

Fuck, she should stop spending so much time with Glenn. She shakes her head. “I need a fucking cigarette.”

“Well, you’re not getting one, so let’s move on from that,” Glenn says. He leans forward in his seat and points at the paper. “Okay, so, Powell is associated with –”

“Associated with?”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine – she’s _fucking_ Priebus, who’s either also fucking Bannon or is just obsessed with him.”

“And if it’s the latter, then it goes both ways,” she adds, remembering that weird-ass conversation she’d had only a few days ago – fuck, that was less than a week ago… She shakes her head again. “So, the question is, why the fuck did Powell send me that video?”

“Are you sure it’s her?” Glenn asks. “I mean, you said so yourself, the email looked like it was spam, so it could be from anyone. Hell, it could be from Comey, for all we know.”

Maggie stops walking and gives him a look. “Do you really think James Comey is sending me a video of Priebus jerking off?”

He shrugs. “I mean, it’s as good a guess as any, isn’t it?”

“Stick with creative prose, Glenn.” She chuckles a little when he swats her away and, for a brief moment, it feels like they’re writing any other story about crazy stuff in politics. And then she glances at his computer screen as sees that her email is still open and then the pit falls further in her stomach.

The file deleted as soon as she downloaded it – of course it did, because Powell is the deputy national security advisor so of course she knows how to set up self-deleting files – and then it refused to be redownloaded. But Glenn believed her because of course he did, because why would she make this up, because why would she pretend she can still see Priebus’ dick when she closes her eyes.

Fuck, how did her life come to this?

“How about we work backwards?” Glenn suggests. “We make a list of all the people it could be and try to assign them motives, then use that to see who’s the likeliest?”

“Off the top of my head, literally everyone in the White House is a suspect.” Maggie stops walking, leaning against the wall and letting out a groan. “Fuck, we’ll be here all day.

“Not me,” he says. He holds up his phone and starts to stand. “I got to go – there’s a scoop at the White House I need to write up.”

“A scoop more important than whatever this is?” she asks, raising a brow.

He pulls on his coat. “Sarah Palin brought Kid Rock and Ted Nguyet to the White House with her.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s a fucking scoop.” She sits down in his chair, legs curled up to her chest as she pulls herself to her desk. “Fine, I’ll just chill here for a bit and then get up for the train ride back.”

“We’ll work on it more on the weekend or something,” he promises. “Or, maybe after we finish that other article.”

“Yeah,” she nods, a little absently. She grabs a pen and starts tapping it on the desk, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Think we can cross-reference the list for that article with the list for – well, this?”

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug. “Do you really think there will be any sort of overlap between the people outside the Trump administration who Trump frequently contacts and the people who have the means and motive to send you pornographic images of the Chief of Staff to the President?”

Maggie shrugs. “Stranger things have happened.”

“I guess if James Comey is a suspect, then fuck, anyone can be,” Glenn sighs. He waves as he leaves, and she stays at his desk longer than is necessary, staring into nowhere, staring at her inbox and at that damned email.

“How did it end up like this?” she says aloud. “How the fuck did it end up like this?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She’s in New York, coffee in one hand and her phone in the other as she starts making her way to the office, when Glenn calls. She blows her hair out of her face and presses the phone to her ear. “Yeah?”

“You need to come to DC,” he says without preamble.

“What’s happening?” Maggie furrows her brow. “Is this about the article? I’m not in front of my computer so I can’t exactly look at right now, but…”

“No, no, it’s not about the article,” he says. “It’s about the… you know…” he trails off awkwardly.

She stops walking. “Wait, you mean the – the _thing_?”

“Yeah, the ‘thing’… at least, I think we’re talking about the same thing.” He clears his throat. “I’ll pick you up from the station. Get here tonight.”

“Yeah, all right,” she says. “See you soon.” She hangs up and starts looking up train tickets. There’s a chill that goes down her spine, just a little, raising the hairs on the back of her neck, and she gets the feeling that someone’s watching her.

Well, someone’s always watching – she should know better than anyone. But there’s something about this particular story that leaves her, well, unsettled. Uncomfortable.

“Fuck, I miss Obama,” she mumbles to herself, and starts walking again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Glenn picks her up and they drive to an apartment near the city. Most of the ride is spent in silence, Maggie’s eyes on her phone and Glenn’s on the road.

“Fucking hell,” she groans, “why can’t Sean Hannity just shut the fuck up?”

“Is he _still_ tweeting about us?” he asks, sounding almost bemused. “And then he thinks _we_ don’t have lives.”

“Well, he’s got a point there.”

He leads her up to the apartment and knocks on the door, and Maggie is genuinely surprised by who opens the door – Abby Phillip, in the flesh. “Hey, Maggie,” she says, smiling politely.

“Hey,” Maggie replies, waving her hand in greeting. She steps inside after Glenn and sees the one and only Robert Costa sipping on a mug of coffee while he leans back on the couch. He nods his head in greeting and she waves her hand. “Hey, Robert – congrats on Washington Week.”

“Thanks, Maggie.” He scoots aside and lets Abby sit beside him, crossing her legs one over the other.

“You two want coffee?” she asks.

“No, thanks,” Glenn says, and Maggie shakes her head. “No, I think I’m too hyped up on adrenaline to need some caffeine.”

Robert chuckles a little. “Yeah, I bet.” He clears his throat. “So, uh, did Glenn explain to you anything about this on your way here?”

“No, I thought it would be better if you did that,” Glenn says. He sits down on one of the folding chairs and Maggie takes the remaining couch. She sets her phone on the table, face down – no distractions, for whatever this is going to be. And fuck, she hopes it’s good.

Robert and Abby exchange a glance, before he takes a long sip from his mug and sets it down with a dull thud. “All right,” he says. “Well, I guess I’ll start from the beginning – or, well, the beginning for me, at least.”

“And what’s that?” Maggie asks.

At that, he gives her a slight and humorless smile. “When Gary Cohn called me to tell me what he saw.”

She furrows her brow. “And what exactly did he see?”

Abby stifles a chuckle, covering her mouth with her hand and shaking her head. “Confirmation that Jared Kushner is a cuck.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Gary Cohn is not a voyeur. Yes, he’s a very opportunistic man and yes, he does go looking for opportunities and yes, if that opportunity came at the expense of someone else, then, well, they were probably less lucky than he was.

But just because he’s a balding, old rich man, that doesn’t mean he likes watching people in that context, okay? He just wants to make that painfully clear – to his own conscience. Because if he’s not a voyeur, then what he’s doing right now isn’t illegal, and therefore he can’t be fired and jailed.

Because right now, he’s watching Dina Powell and Ivanka Trump have sex.

He didn’t intend for this to happen, not at all. All he wanted to do was to go to Dina’s office, congratulate her on helping rescue that poor, poor girl from Egypt, and drink some celebratory wine with her while they laugh and chat like they usually do late at night, once the work is done and the President is back in his room.

Except, when he gets to her office, there’s someone else already there – Ivanka, hair curled around her shoulders and sitting down in one of the plastic chairs while Dina leans over the desk and lets out a laugh.

The door is only slightly ajar and neither of them have noticed him standing outside in the doorway so he keeps standing there, bottle in one hand and a glass in the other (Dina has her own) and he just stands there and waits. Surely Ivanka will be leaving anytime now, won’t she?

Won’t she?

He can barely hear whatever they’re saying but their laughter is as clear as day. Dina is the only face he can see clearly and she’s focused right on Ivanka, nodding her head and smiling softly. They work together well and they respect each other immensely, but Gary has no idea why they’d _still_ be talking so late at night.

That is, until they start to kiss. He’s not sure who leans forward first but Dina has a hand gently cupping the side of Ivanka’s face and she’s pulling her closer, over the desk. Ivanka swipes her hand across the table and files go flying away as she gets up and sits on the other side, right in front of Dina, just to start kissing her again.

A pen rolls all the way over to Gary’s foot and he doesn’t dare move. How can he – he’s seen too much. His feet have rooted themselves into the ground and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to move. If his brain were able to process what was going on then, sure, he’d start to get hard right about now. Except he’s still not sure what he’s seeing so he just stops and stares and lets it happen.

Dina pulls down the straps of Ivanka’s dress and it falls off her chest, leaving her bare from the waist up. Deft and manicured fingers start to undo the buttons of Dina’s blouse and help her pull it off before they start kissing again, vague and soft murmurs exchanged between the two.

Ivanka kisses the side of Dina’s neck and Dina lets out a low moan. Her hands scratch down her back, pale marks against pale skin, but Ivanka laughs slowly and kisses the corner of her mouth. Dina curls her mouth into a smile and while Gary can’t tell what she does, he definitely hears Ivanka’s loud and approving reaction of it.

“Fuck, Dina, that feels so good,” she sighs softly. “God, please, keep that up.”

“As you wish,” Dina hums, but her words are cut off when Ivanka moans again, a little louder than before, pressing herself further into her arms and up against the wall behind the desk.

Dina laughs, louder this time, and there’s something in that laugh that snaps Gary out of his reprieve and pulls him into the present. He blinks a couple of times as his brain takes a moment to catch up and holy _fuck_ , he just saw Dina Powell and Ivanka Trump making out and (possibly) have sex.

There’s no fucking way he can keep this information to himself.

He steps backwards, careful to make sure his movements make no noise, before he all but rushes down the stairs and into the lobby. He takes a moment to look around and reorient his surroundings – days in the West Wing and it’s still hard to figure out where exactly he is at most times – and he sees Priebus sticking his head out his door, phone in hand.

“Steve,” he all but shouts, “did you call Megyn Kelly ‘the Devil’?”

The door to Bannon’s office is open and the man himself replies, “That does sound like something I would say, yeah.”

Priebus pinches the bridge of his nose and steps back into his office and, seconds later, Bannon steps out of his own and heads there instead.

Gary has no time to worry about whatever PR disaster is waiting for the administration over there, though, not when he has a huge scoop of his own that he just _has_ to tell Eli about. He had to delete his number off of his phone to assuage Trump and Spicer, but, well, everyone all but knows about the dossiers and spreadsheets they’ve made for reporters and the passwords are ridiculously easy so it won’t be hard to find his number again.

He sits down at Spicer’s desk and starts typing.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“So, I just saw Dina and Ivanka having sex,” is the first thing Robert hears when he picks up the phone, and he rubs the sleep from his eyes before he tries comprehending whatever that’s supposed to mean._

_He clears his throat. “Um, sorry?”_

_There’s a short pause. “Oh,_ shit _,” says the voice on the other end and it takes Robert a couple of seconds to place it – Gary Cohn. “Fuck, I meant to call_ Bloomberg _and not Bob Costa. I keep telling Spicer he should organize the dossiers by organization and not name – or at least make that apparent immediately…”_

_Robert quickly sits up. “Wait, hang on, there really are press dossiers?”_

_“This is all off the record,” Cohn says quickly. He pauses again. “But I mean, didn’t everyone already more or less know that?”_

_“Yeah, yeah, we kind of figured you had something like that,” Robert says. He clears his throat. “Look, I know you didn’t mean to call me, but I mean, you did, and I heard you say something but I’m not sure I quite caught it…”_

_“Let me just reiterate that everything I’ve said and am saying for the entirety of this conversation is off the record,” Cohn says, and then, after a deep breath, “I saw Dina and Ivanka making out in her office.”_

_Robert doesn’t quite process what he’s being told and the first question he asks is, “Whose office?”_

_“_ That’s _what you’re going with?” Gary asks. “Dina’s office. The door was open a crack and I was going to go in and have some drinks, when…”_

_“Hang on,” Robert says. He’s sitting up fully, voice low but controlled. “Were you drunk when this happened?”_

_“No,” Cohn says, then adds, “well, not really. Well, I did have a couple of drinks before I went over to Dina’s. Well, more than a couple. But – but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I saw.”_

_“Is this a drunk call?” Robert asks._

_“Just because it’s a call from a man who’s more than a little drunk late at night, doesn’t mean that it’s a drunk call.”_

_“That’s the textbook definition of drunk call, I think.”_

_“Oh, come off it, Bob,” Cohn sighs. “I know what I saw. Look, I never intended for anyone to write a story about this, but I mean, can’t you be a little more, you know, receiving of my news?”_

_“Not if it’s possibly some drunk hallucination.” Robert pulls his phone away for a second to check the time. “All right, look, why don’t you get some sleep and sober up and, if in the morning, you still think you saw… that, then go ahead and call me again, all right?”_

_“I know what I saw,” Cohn huffs._

_“I know, I know,” Robert says. “Then – do it for me, then. It’s almost one, I have an early day tomorrow.”_

_Cohn lets out a slow breath. “Fine,” he says, relenting easily. “I’ll message you the moment the sun is up, Bob, and then you better be more receptive to this than you are right now.”_

_“I’m sure I will,” Robert promises, tone more than a little halfhearted. He lets out a sigh of relief when they hang up and rubs his eyes again._

(Gary is a little pissed off when he gets off the phone with Bob. Sure, he did drink a little over half the wine in preemptive celebration – or, what he calls getting through the day without someone being anti-Semitic – but that in no way, shape, or form negates what he saw.

He saw Dina kissing Ivanka. He saw them working and then he saw them kissing and then he’s pretty sure they were having sex. He saw that. It happened.

Eli would’ve believed him. But does he really want to go through the hassle of finding Eli’s number though this whole unorganized dossier? No, not really.

He’s walking back over to the stairs, ready to head back up to his office, and he sees, down the hall, Priebus’ office is still open.

He doesn’t know why, he knows he shouldn’t, but his feet start moving on their own accord and then he’s there, standing outside the room, watching through the crack in the door, just because he just happens to be there.

He can see Priebus standing, leaning back on his desk and his hands covering his face. Gary strains his ears a little so he can hear.

“… do healthcare again, Steve, I just can’t,” Priebus says, voice soft but mumbled. “I can’t – I can’t. It will kill me. It will put my head on the guillotine and slice it off.”

“The President asked you to do it,” Bannon says, though Gary can’t see him.

“And then there’s tax reform and avoiding the shutdown and Mike has me going on all the morning shows and –” Priebus inhales deeply, but it doesn’t sound like any air is going in. He tries again, hiccupping at the end, and tears start to spill between his fingers. “I – I – I can’t – I…”

Bannon comes into view, just his back, and he wraps his arms around Priebus and pulls him to his chest. He doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say anything, just yet.

“I’m going to hell,” Priebus says. His voice is soft and choked out into a sob and his hands are still on his face.

“You’re already there,” Bannon says, and while his tone is steely, his expression is soft and he kisses Priebus’ forehead, rubbing his back.

Their voice trail off into whispers and mumbles, too soft to hear, and Gary feels so uncomfortable that he finally manages to move his feet away. It’s for the same reason he was finally able to look away from Ivanka and Dina – the scene was intimate. Too intimate. And spying on them like that was too voyeuristic for him to be comfortable.

Then again, why would Bannon and Priebus ever have a moment like that? And why would anyone have illicit office sex with the door open?

“Fuck,” he mumbles quietly, “I really am drunk.”)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Robert is standing in front of the bathroom mirror, a while after Cohn had called. He just couldn’t get it out of his head what Cohn had said about Ivanka and Powell. Sure, it was too good to be true – er, kind of – but Cohn did sound like he was absolutely positive in what he saw._

Wonder what he was drinking _, Robert thinks with a chuckle and then,_ well, fuck it _, decides to call what’s now Ivanka’s office. It takes a couple of rings, and it’s quite shocking when Ivanka herself picks up._

_“Hello?”_

_Robert clears his throat. “Hello, this is Robert Costa from the_ Washington Post _. I’m trying to reach Ivanka Trump.”_

_“That’s me,” she says with a slight chuckle. “I, uh, gave my assistants an early night, but I’m still here.”_

_“I see.” He clears his throat again. He can see his face in the mirror and he takes a deep breath. “Well, I was calling to get your statement on something revealed to me by a source of mine – there’s not a story behind it, currently, but I thought you should probably know of this… rumor anyway.”_

_“And what rumor is that?”_

_“The source claims to have seen you and Dina Powell engaging in sexual intercourse in the West Wing.” There’s a long beat of silence, long enough that Robert has to check his phone to make sure they’re still on the line. “Um, hello?”_

_“Yes,” Ivanka says quickly. “Yes, I can hear you.”_

_“Okay…” Robert says slowly. “Would you like to make a statement at this time?”_

_“No, no statement at this time.” She pauses a second. “Thank you for letting me know, Mr. Costa. I hope you have a good night.” She hangs up, and Robert just stares at his phone for a long while before finally heading out of the bathroom._

_He’s at the office, sitting with Abby at her desk when his phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number. He opens it up and then immediately drops his phone, letting it hit the floor with a dull thud. His eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly agape and he needs a moment to process what he just saw._

_A picture of Ivanka Trump settled between someone’s thighs, face looking up at the camera with her mouth slick and dripping._

Jesus fucking Christ, _Robert thinks. And that’s all he can think._

_Abby raises a brow. “Um, Robert? You just dropped your phone.”_

_Robert jerks and quickly reaches down to grab it. The message is still there – the picture, that is – and he’s able to look at it for a couple of more moments just to confirm that no, he isn’t imagining it, before it deletes right before his eyes._

_“Oh,_ fuck _,” he mumbles quietly._

_Abby sits forward. “What happened?”_

_He looks at her and bites his lip a little, before getting to his feet. “Not here,” he says. “Somewhere else. Come on.”_

_She grabs her coat and follows._

_“And that’s what happened.”_

_“…”_

_“Abby, stop laughing.”_

_“…”_

_“It isn’t that funny.”_

_“…”_

_“Oh, my god, are you_ still _laughing?”_

Abby clears her throat, chuckling a little. “It just sounded so… absurd.”

“Oh yeah,” Glenn says, “I had the same kind of reaction when Maggie filled me in on her whole thing.”

“So, wait,” Maggie says, setting down the coffee she’d gotten at some point during the story, “how did you two figure out that we had the same sort of thing happen to us? I mean, I assume Glenn hasn’t been going around and telling everyone about this.”

“Actually, that’s kind of what happened,” Abby says. “He was working on his laptop when I walked by and I could see the words ‘Dina Powell’ and ‘sex’ and I thought Cohn might’ve called him too. But, I have to say, your story is a lot weirder than ours.”

“Yeah,” Robert nods. “I mean, okay, I can buy Powell and Ivanka, but Powell and Priebus? And Priebus and Bannon? That’s just…” he shakes his head. “How the hell did Reince Priebus become one of the most sexually active people in the West Wing?”

“You’re telling me,” Abby says.

“I cannot wrap my head around the image of Priebus having sex with _anyone_ , let alone with someone like Dina Powell,” Glenn says. “Actually, I can’t imagine him having sex with his own wife – she’s leagues ahead of him in looks and yet she lets him fuck her?”

Maggie shakes her head. “No, there’s no way Priebus fucked anyone – if anything, they fucked him because he looks like a fucking sub.” She pauses a moment and lets her words sink in. “Fuck, I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Welcome to 2017,” Abby sighs. “The year of… discussions about people’s sexual habits, or whatever.”

“Fuck I miss 2008,” Robert sighs. He gets up and takes his mug over to Abby’s sink, starting to wash it. “I mean, the birther scandal was nothing compared to this.”

“At least that we knew was fake,” Glenn says. “This – we don’t know _anything_ except that it happened and someone wants us to know it happened.”

“You know,” Maggie says, slowly, “there’s someone I expected to be involved in all of this that so far hasn’t been mentioned even once.” She looks around at the others. “Someone who loves to talk to the media like this, someone who considers herself exceptionally attractive, someone who, by all rights, belongs in this story more than everyone else who belongs in it.

“The question is, why hasn’t she appeared in this story yet?”

There’s a pause as everyone thinks, and then Abby says, “Well, that’s because we’re not who she’d talk to – if I’m thinking of who you’re thinking of.” She nods slowly. “No, there’s only one person who she’d want to tell this to.”

Maggie stands up. “He lives in DC, right? Let’s go find him.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maggie’s the one to knock and the four of them stand around in front of the door. There’s a subtle sense of paranoia that’s prevalent in the atmosphere, but none of them step away or leave. They don’t say anything.

The door opens and Jake Tapper looks, understandably, confused. “Uh, hey, guys?” he says, more of a question than a greeting.

“Hey, Jake,” Maggie says, “we need to talk.”

“Okay,” Jake says, slowly. “That’s usually not a good conversation starter.”

“It’s about Kellyanne Conway,” Robert says.

Jake lets out a slow sigh, face visibly falling. “And that just makes this all worse,” he says. “All right, let me get my coat.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’s almost midnight when Jim arrives at Abby’s apartment, eyes a little worn and a bit of dried toothpaste stuck on the corner of his mouth. He licks it away as Maggie steps aside and returns her tired smile. “Sorry I’m late,” he says. “Had to put the kids to sleep.”

“Sorry for pulling you away like this,” Abby says apologetically. “You didn’t get lost on your way here, did you?”

Jim shakes his head as he pulls off his coat. “No, it was fine. Plus, the roads were more or less empty so I let myself speed a little.”

“Jim Acosta, living life on the edge,” Glenn deadpans, but breaks into a grin when Jim playfully hits the side of his head.

“Yeah, yeah, heavy metal guitarist Glenn Thrush.”

Abby furrows her brow. “What?”

“It’s my destressing activity,” Glenn explains. “Like… knitting, I guess. But cooler.”

“Hey, don’t shit on knitting – it’s not as easy as you’d think,” Jake says. He pats the empty seat next to him and hands Jim a mug of coffee. “Thanks for coming, Jim. You’re my corroborating witness – I mean, everyone else had one, so I thought it would be fair if I had one too.”

Jim raises a brow, swallowing down a small sip. “Witness for what?”

“The Kellyanne thing.”

“Oh, _that_.” He shakes his head with a slight smile. “She’s really… imaginative, isn’t she? What with that whole story thing…” He trails off when Jake gives him a look, and something is exchanged in those glances because Jim nearly spills his drink.

“What story thing?” Robert asks. He leans forward and raises a brow. “Jake didn’t tell us anything yet – he wanted to wait for you.”

“Of course,” Jim says, after taking another sip. He sets the coffee down on the table and digs into his pocket to pull out his phone. “That’s because I’m the one she calls.”

“Calls for what?” Maggie asks.

Jake leans back, crossing one leg over the other. He and Jim exchange another look and he clears his throat. “All right, I’ll tell it the best I can.”

“I hope it’s good,” Abby says. “I have higher expectations for vocal storytelling from TV journalists than print ones.”

“I feel like that was a subtle dig at me,” Robert says, chuckling.

“Well, you are going to be a TV journalist soon,” Glenn points out. “Might be a good time to see how a pro does it.”

Robert gives an exaggerated scoff. “I’ll have you know, Glenn, that I’ve been on Washington Week for a pretty long time and there’s a reason they gave _me_ the helm as opposed to any of the other correspondents.”

“Yeah, well, I hosted a podcast.”

Maggie rolls her eyes. “Gentlemen, we can compare dick sizes later.” She gestures over to Jake and Jim. “So, tell us where it started.”

“It started a while ago,” Jake admits. “And, honestly, I should’ve seen it for what it was.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_She’s just finished a phone call when he walks in, head held high and shoulders pushed back, as though he’s trying to take command of the room. It’s kind of pathetic, considering she’s the only one there and they have the same amount of power, and she gives him a playful smirk._

_“Afternoon,” she hums. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”_

_“You know why,” he says plainly. He pushes the door closed and starts to undo his belt. He hasn’t met her eyes once, hasn’t acknowledged that she’s an equal in all of this._

_“You’re all business,” she says with a huff, but there’s no heat behind it, not really. She gets up and sits down on the other side of her desk, lifting her dress and pulling her panties down to the middle of her thighs. “Maybe we should drink some_ before _we do this instead of after.”_

_He doesn’t respond to that. He’s pulled down his pants and underwear and he’s jerking his dick for a bit before sliding on the condom. He still doesn’t look at her, just right past her, as he grips her hips and just shoves himself inside of her – no preamble, no foreplay, no nothing._

_His breath is hot and heavy in her ear and she runs her finger over his shoulder, over somethings that feel like ridges and grooves. Like a bite mark that someone else left – and she has a feeling who it is._

_It takes her a while to start rocking back against him. The thing about him is, while he has a nice dick, he barely knows what to do with it. It’s like he’s never properly pleasured a woman before and honestly, she’d believe that. Correction – she_ believes _that. Only certain types of men have three wives who all leave, and he fits the bill perfectly._

_His grunts get a little rougher and his grip a little tighter, and she lets go of him to reach down and start rubbing her clit. She tilts her head back and his mouth ghosts over the side of her neck as she starts to let out short, breathy moans. Her other hand starts to rub her breasts, through her dress and through her bra, but the effect is about the same._

_He comes without a word and she comes right after._

_She watches him peel off the condom, wrapping it in a napkin and throwing it in the garbage, and reflects a little on their whole relationship. She knows she shouldn’t be doing this, that it’s wrong on so many levels, but there’s some power in it – some power in how she holds this secret, how she knows he comes to him, almost every week, just to do this._

_There’s power in this, and when has she ever denied herself power? When has she ever denied herself anything, really? The same question could be asked to him – asked to anyone in this administration, really. They take and take and take whatever whenever, screw the costs and screw the consequences._

_And that's something, isn't it? The fact that they never deny themselves anything. The fact that they give themselves everything they want and never tell themselves no. That says something about all of them._

(“Astute observation,” Jake says, before he can stop himself. Jim rolls his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose and Jake spots one of his cards – a three of hearts.

On the table between them, Kellyanne’s sigh comes through as static through the phone. “Jake, what have I told you about interrupting? It ruins the whole flow.”

“Sorry,” Jake says, trying to sound as sheepish as possible. He looks across at Jim and mouths, ‘Threes?’

Jim gives him a glare and tosses over two threes as Kellyanne clears her throat. “As I was saying…”)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_That says something about all of them._

_She pulls her panties back on and goes back to the other side of her desk, setting their glasses and a bottle of wine down on top of confidential documents. He pours out the glasses for both of them and leans against the wall._

_“He’s falling apart,” he says after a moment._

_There’s only one ‘he’ they talk about, and she takes a long sip of her drink before responding. “Well,” she says slowly, “that’s understandable. After all, his job is in jeopardy and he has no allies other than us – and we’re falling too.”_

_“That’s a good point,” he concedes. He swirls the glass. “He thinks he’s going to be hung if the government shuts down.”_

_“He might,” she agrees. She drinks again and looks over at him. His pants are still unzipped and she can see his dick denting his underwear. “He’s let you back in, huh? His old honey lost interest?”_

_“No, she hasn’t,” he says, and the fact that his grip tightens on the glass almost makes her laugh. “But, well, I made him reconsider.”_

_“You mean you fucked him.”_

_He sighs. “Yes, I fucked him.”_

_She chuckles softly. “Come on, you know you don’t have to be so put-together around me – I mean, you’re not around anyone, really.”_

_He takes a slow sip and narrows his eyes at her, watching her mouth curve into a smile. “You fucking love this, don’t you?” he asks. “You love seeing me like this, at my lowest, at my weakest. You thrive off of it.”_

_“You come here to me because you know that I won’t take advantage of that,” she points out. No, she won’t use it against him – the humiliation that she has seen him like this, at his lowest, at his weakest, is enough for both of them._

_“That doesn’t answer my question.” He drains the glass and walks over to set it down on the table. “Finish up,” he orders. “We’ve got that tax reform meeting in a couple of minutes.”_

_“I’ll be right down,” she says. She finishes off her drink in a couple of sips and sets the glasses back where she’d gotten them from, slowly heading to the door and closing it behind her. Her pussy is still wet and leaking into her panties and it makes her feel alive._

(“And that’s all you have for this week?” Jake asks. He flips over his card – a queen of diamonds – and watches as Jim flips his own to reveal a king of spades. He grins as he drags the cards over and Jake rolls his eyes.

“Yup, that’s all for this week,” Kellyanne says. “I mean, that’s just the highlights, but I think it’s good enough for now.”

“Thank god,” Jim mumbles under his breath, soft enough so the phone can’t pick it up, and Jake lets the corner of his mouth twitch as he replies to her.

“All right,” he says. “Well, like I said before, the relationship between the deputy national security advisor and the chief of staff is a little unbelievable, given that you’ve described him as unattractive and her as extremely attractive.”

“I never said he was unattractive – I just said he wasn’t very good looking,” Kellyanne huffs. “And I explained – she’s getting with him to control both him and the chief strategist.”

“You never explained _how_ the counsellor finds that out, though,” Jake points out. “Explain that – is there a conversation, is there something she sees – how?”

She sighs. “Fine, fine. Anything else?”

‘The names,’ Jim mouths.

Jake nods. “Yeah, when are you going to give them all names?”

“In due time,” Kellyanne replies. There’s some noise on the other end and she lets out a groan. “All right, well, I have to go. It was nice talking to you, Jake, and remember –”

“This is all off the record,” he finishes for her. “I know. Have a good weekend.” He hangs up on her and shakes his head with a sigh.

Jim sets down his cards. “I don’t think there’s much of a difference between ‘not very good-looking’ and ‘unattractive’.”

“There is,” Jake assures him, and they both chuckle. He takes Jim’s cards and shuffles them into the deck. “Wanna play one last round of Go Fish before heading home?”

“You read my mind.”)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh my god,” Maggie says, because there’s not much else she can think of saying. “Oh my fucking god.” She leans back in her seat and slowly shakes her head. “Just… my god…”

“Let me get this straight,” Robert says, leaning forward, “Kellyanne Conway has been calling Jim’s phone so she can talk to you about the administration, under the guise of _writing a book_?”

“Like I said,” Jake says, “we really should’ve seen it coming.”

Abby rubs her forehead. “And at no point either of you thought, ‘gee, this sounds a lot like something that just happened today in the administration’?”

Jim shrugs sheepishly. “I just chalked it up to a lack of imagination, really.”

“Honestly,” Robert says, “I don’t blame you.”

“We really had no idea,” Jake insists. “But, well, turns out that it’s all true.”

“Seriously?” Jim asks, brows raised in disbelief. “Shit, even the Bannon and Priebus bits?”

“ _Especially_ the Bannon and Priebus bits,” Glenn says.

Maggie stands up and starts to pace. She pushes her glasses forward and flexes her fingers. “Okay,” she says, “so what do we know for sure?”

“We know Priebus and Bannon have sex,” Glenn says. “As well as Powell and Priebus.”

“We also know that Powell and Ivanka have sex,” Abby adds.

“And we know that Bannon and Conway have sex,” Jim finishes. “All of that is for certain…” he reflects on his words and shakes his head. “Holy shit…”

“Yeah, I know.” Glenn pats his back sympathetically.

“We can assume that Powell is the one who sent the video,” Jake says. “I mean, Kellyanne pointed out that Powell is, well, fucking Priebus to control him and Bannon, so the video must be some sort of failsafe to ensure that someone else knows about this and has seen evidence of it – just in case she wants to make it public.”

“Smart move,” Abby says.

“It is.”

“Why would she send that picture of Ivanka, though?” Glenn asks. “I mean, she and Ivanka are supposed to be friends – or well, the West Wing equivalent of friends. Is this supposed to be a failsafe for her and Kushner or what?”

“It could also be that Cohn hacked into her phone or something and got a picture she took,” Robert says.

“Yeah, that could be it.”

“So, we have our suspect, a possible motive, and as much of the story as we could get,” Maggie says. She stops walking and all eyes fall on her as she looks back at all of them. “So the question is... what do we do now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What indeed?

**Author's Note:**

> It's a plot.


End file.
